Page 246 of Chameleon Killer

“Then where the hell was it processed?” Brewster’s last admission just felt—wrong. “FBI facility?”

“No, an offsite—contracted one.” Those few words pulled from him with almost agonizing slowness.

“Which one?” Flint asked.

“I can't tell you.”

I laughed. I genuinely couldn't help it.

Brewster's expression hardened.

“You came to my boyfriend's apartment—” The word escaped. Everything stopped.

Oh. Well. Fuck it.

Flint turned his head slowly. I refused to look at him. Not because I regretted it. Because if I saw his face right now, I was going to lose the thread of this conversation entirely.

Across from us, Brewster’s face became unreadable.

I cleared my throat.

“You came to Flint's apartment,” I corrected, approximately nine hundred years too late, “after being removed from the case, told me you withheld evidence, dragged us to a diner⁠—”

“You chose the diner,” Brewster murmured.

“Not helping,” Flint murmured in a low voice that said he really didn’t give a shit if Brewster helped his own case or not.

“Sorry.” He absolutely was not sorry.

I continued. “And now you're invoking confidentiality?”

“I'm not authorized to release laboratory information.”

“You aren't authorized to do anything right now.” I snorted.

The comment landed on the table like a grenade. Brewster’s expression froze.

I regretted it almost immediately. Not because it wasn't true. Because I'd wanted information, not blood. Dammit, I was too tired for this. “Elliot⁠—”

“You're right.”

That shut me right up.

Brewster sat back. “I don't have authorization.” His voice had gone quiet. “I'm not here in any official capacity.”

Flint's attention sharpened but Brewster ignored him and kept his gaze locked on me.

“I'm here because Simon contacted me.”

The name sounded wrong in his mouth. I also couldn’t tell if he was using to just get one over on me or to deliver a subtle dig. Maybe both. “What did he say?”

Brewster reached into his shirt pocket.

Flint's hand caught my thigh.

Brewster flicked his eyes toward Flint, then slowed his motions. With no challenge or sudden movements, he removed a folded piece of paper and placed it on the table. Once there, he pushed it toward me with two fingers.

Undeterred by his choice, Flint intercepted.